Things They Carried Over A Disproportionally Small Gap
by dumbdumpbadumpa
Summary: Hiking up to the rendez-vous, Lovino finds something he wasn't expecting.
1. Chapter 1

Title : "Things They Carried Over A Disproportionally Small Gap"

Chapter 1 : Gilbert Shoots Himself In The Foot

A/N : so heres' the deal. Story's set in WW1, oh boy,

Genre : "War," Sci-Fi, Friendship, Human AU

* * *

Fog blurred the tips of the pine trees in the forest looming behind them. Ludwig didn't bother fighting the ebbing weariness, he just stood there waiting. Gilbert on the other hand was shivering like he had a frog in his jacket.

"Really makes you feel small." Antonio stood up next to Gilbert, who startled and looked at him.

Ludwig took a deep breath through his nose, and pulled a chocolate cigar out of his jacket.

"Oh—Sorry Gil." Antonio said.

There wasn't really much the boys could do to seem soldierly. The other side was shooting at them like they were encased in maple syrup, and the boys' trench was unloaded. The fog was making it hard to get anything done. Ludwig unwrapped his cigar and gnawed on it.

"You did that on purpose." Gilbert told Antonio.

"Yeah, uh-huh, I did." Antonio replied.

"Quiet down." Ludwig grunted at the two, peaking at no-man's land.

"I can't see." Gilbert whined.

"Neither can they." Ludwig warned, as though it would be easier for the French to shoot into the tench and actually hit someone just by God's hand than it would be by marksmanship.

"I bet you could hit someone through this." Ludwig told Gilbert.

"Course I could, I could hit someone with my eyes closed." Gilbert said. "With one hand. What are you gonna bet, your house?"

"I dunno. Sure."

"Haha!" Gilbert glanced at Antonio, then grabbed his 1887, and loaded it. "I'm probably the best sn—" Gilbert squeaked and they could hear his heart change gears.

"For God's sake..." Ludwig mumbled.

Gilbert glanced at him. The sniper could hear footsteps from no man's land and shivered astutely.

"Gilbert. Hello. Hello." Ludwig said. "How do you put up with him?"

"Shh. Gilbert." Antonio squeezed Gilbert's shoulders and stared into his soul.

"I'm not kidding, though." Gilbert said.

A pair of solder jumped into the trench and everyone nearby startled, except Gilbert, who was right.

"Sir!" The two cried, saluting and glancing around. The captain was on his way over, from on the far end of the trench, picking through soldiers sitting and writing, standing and smoking, shooting, or arguing.

The intruders were both short and fat and wearing brand new German uniforms, which didn't match the rest of the trench. Their helmets were too big, covering their eyes. Curls of hair peaked out around their ears. All in all, they looked like they'd just been drafted yesterday, and decided to skip the customary three months of training.

Gilbert pointed his gun at them, and Antonio pouted because dude, how come they get to have long hair and no training? And Ludwig was looking at the tall one like he was seeing a ghost.

The captain, flanked by the lieutenant, stepped over Antonio's backpack and glared at the two invaders, with his bayard handgun on safety. Ludwig frowned at him from the corner of his eye. If Ludwig was in charge these two would be buried already.

"What's going on here?" The lieutenant told them.

"We're here, sirs." Said the shorter one.

"We got lost." The taller one added.

"Gershwin sent us."

"We got lost."

"Lost? We got captured, sir."

"Yes, we got captured, sir."

"The French—"

"—they got us, sir."

"Enough." The captain said, aiming the bayard at the dark haired one's face. Reaching it out to move his helmet back with the short barrel.

The dude was an Italian. Well I mean he was a German but he had a Roman crookedness in his nose that might have gone back through his line to the beginning of the common era.

"Right." The captain said.

Antonio was peachy keen about new friends. Ludwig was pickley sour about these raggedy choral chatterboxes. Gilbert was plum distracted, looking for the sun through the fog.

"Well fine. We need reinforcements." The Captain grunted. The three boys glanced at him.

"We'll see some action soon." The lieutenant said. The boys blanched.

"Follow me, tall guy." The captain said, and he and the lieutenant turned back and waded up to the end of the trench, along with Feliciano. On the way over, the three got several stares, all fixed on the soldier but all meant for the captain.

Gilbert took a step back and got the nose of his rifle closer to the remaining soldier's chin.

"Scusi, scusi, no problemo." Lovino babbled.

"You can bet your ass there's a problemo." Gilbert set the barrel on guy's cheekbone. He face became fawn-like for a moment.

Then, "Eat my ass." Lovino swatted at the gun.

"Say that again."

"Gilbert." Ludwig said.

"I don't have the time for this." The soldier yowled.

"Whatever, fuck you." Gilbert told him, putting the 1887's barrel back on the edge of the trench.

"This is a disaster." Ludwig sighed. Lovino laughed at him.

"Time to make good on your bet, lil' ol' Ludwig." Gilbert poked his eyes over the edge of the trench and aimed his rifle anywhere. Ludwig sighed at the nickname, but wouldn't correct somebody like Gilbe—hell wait a second.

"Gilbert wait, what are you doing."

"Fire." Gilbert announced. And he fired. It whizzed through the fog. The four boys were silent.

The shot was returned.

"Cool so I guess we'll never know if I hit anybody." Gilbert said. "Probably not but it sure was fun, good game, Ludwig."

"Gilbert."

"What? What!" Gilbert said. "I'm bored, there's never anything to do around here."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2 : Gilbert Calls The Boys Boring

A/N : evil bird? :V

* * *

In the morning, the fog was gone, replaced with light rain. The captain took a scouting crew into the forest.

"Whattaya think?" Gilbert said.

"We're definitely going in there." Antonio said. Lovino nodded, hunched over a journal.

"Yeahh." Ludwig said, trying to write a letter, but not trying very hard.

"You guys are boring, we could jump ship."

"No, I want to go home, I don't want to be trapped in the middle of France." Antonio said.

"We're not in the middle, we're in the east."

"Hooome." Antonio insisted.

"Yeah, you're right I guess." Gilbert said, digging at the damp dirt with one finger.

There was a ripple through the trench.

"Is that a new guy?

"Who is it?"

"What?" Ludwig looked around.

"There's a guy and he's coming down the trench and people are saluting him, but the captain is gone." Gilbert explained. "Fuck that guy I can do whatever I want." He knocked his canteen over and it rolled into the tank-step. He grabbed it and set it back upright.

Ludwig took the chocolate cigar out of his mouth. "That's probably the lieutenant. Maybe the captain put him in charge."

"Oh."

The boys pretended to be useful. The weather was still making it hard, but Gilbert lit a cigarette and said,"The French." Which made him seem like he pretty much had it going on. Antonio gave him his helmet, grabbed his, arm and made him stand. He grabbed Lovino, too.

The rain pattered on their helmets and shoulders. Antonio took them to the end of the trench, where they kept the supplies. He showed it to Lovino.

"We have some gas and stuff." Antonio picked up a gas mask. "We have extra bullets and guns. That's the rations. We're running out, soon we'll have to go to a garrison."

"What's that." Lovino said.

"I don't know, it's like, the place they keep the rest of the stuff."

"I don't get that, it's like they planned where we'd fight and when we'd need more rations, it's like they planned the whole war!" Gilbert said, leading them back to Ludwig.

"Um." Lovino said. "I hate to break it to you, but—they did..."

"No! Nobody would plan a war." Gilbert said. "I could be stimulating the economy. Everybody knows wartime economies are only happening during the war but I could be helping the economy be stable in fifty years."

"Like what?" Antonio said.

"I could—everything helps, I could get a job."

"Oh yeah like that kinda stuff." Antonio said. "You could also run for mayor."

"Yeah!" Gilbert said.

The Lieutenant picked his way over and around people and their things, to the boys. He was ancient—at least twenty-five—with his green coat and bristly face and a smug white mask. There wasn't anyone around to tell him not to wear it.

"I'm lieutenant Adnan, I'm in charge of you now."

"Sir yes sir." They said.

"What's that?"

"A chocolate cigar." He showed it to Sadık, flushing because it was a gift from his fiancee.

"Wow." Sadık said. "Carry on."

* * *

It was raining the next day, too, and Sadık woke them up and told them they were going back to the garrison. The boys prepared.

"And this goes in here..."

"Antonio I think the man can pack his backpack again."

"Oh I guess you're right Gilbert. Sorry Lovino."

* * *

Several hours later, Gilbert had fucked up.

He bellowed, sprinting down the hall. "Catch that pigeon!" And he flung his arm, decking the medic, who flinched and tossed his arms up, hooking around Gilbert's elbow. Gilbert skidded across the tiles and the medic fell to the floor. Gilbert smacked into the wall.

He glanced at the medic. Oh yeah it's that guy, the boring one. "Haha, sorry, my man." Gilbert said.

"What'he hell was th't?" Oh no what language is this man speaking?

"There... Was a pigeon... Took my...dog tags." Gilbert said.

"What?" Rodrich said. "Stop being foolish. Don't fucking run in the halls, you're a soldier."

"Oh, I'm sorry." Gilbert's tone lashed out at Rodrich.

Rodrich took a step down the hall and Gilbert went with him. "Gilroy?"

"Gilbert." Gilbert smiled. Best friends.

"Okay. Gilbert I need you to know that I'm twenty years old."

"Oh." Gilbert nodded. "Me too."

"Oh. Well." Rodrich said.

"Sorry if I missed up whatever you were going to try to say."

"It's fine. Just don't act like a wild animal."

"Letters! Mail!" A pack of boys, flanked by Ludwig, stormed through the hall. Gilbert followed them, flashing Rodrich a what-can-ya-do grin.

They rounded a corner and Gilbert looked down the hall in the other direction. The door down that hall was propped open with a brick and a puddle of rain reflected the light. That bird could be anywhere.

"Hey Mr. Medic." Gilbert called down the hall.

"That's Mr. Edelstein to you." Rodrich called back.

"Alright then it's Beilschmidt to you. Are you gonna come make sure I don't accidentally die without my dog tags? 'Here lies some dude'."

Rodrich raised his eyebrows, wandering up the hall, but ignoring him.

The town was small, gray, and muddy. The pigeon was no where in sight. A guy came out of the general store to stare at Gilbert. Gilbert glared at him, trying to form a question in French about birds with dog tags, but he forgot the word for bird, so he just stared at the man and at the sky and thought about how he didn't speak French. The man was murmuring at him. He wasn't dressed up like a soldier, but, he was, a soldier.

He wanted to take a nap. He went back to the front of the post office.

"Oh. Thought I'd find you here." Ludwig said, smoking on the porch. "Your last name is Beilschmidt?"

"Yup. Same last name." Gilbert stood next to Ludwig, looking at the road. "Did I get anything?" He squeaked. Incredible.

"I don't know. I found this."

"&. W. Geibsebidt." Gilbert read the name in a deep, raspy voice. Then he said. "Yup, that's me, that's my real name, Geibsibdt.

"Ampersand." Ludwig smiled.

"That's my birth-name, Ampersandbert. It means bear."

Ludwig laughed and glanced at Gilbert.

"Hey since we have the same last name, can I ask you a favor. Like a, like."

Ludwig nodded thoughtfully, shoulders hunched.

"Well, hey, give, give me one of your dog tags."

"Huh?"

"I had an, an embarrassing run in and lost them."

"Both of them?"

"Yes."

"Hmm." Ludwig pulled his tags out of his coat and looked at how they hung on his chain.

"Lemme see."

 **BEILSCHMIDT LUDWIG**

 **PRAGUE, BOHEMIA**

 **10970-1909-32**

"That's—I'd take that."

"What's wrong with it."

"Well, I had a better number." Gilbert said, and Ludwig scoffed at him. "Hey! Luck is important in a war—I could die any second."

"I doubt it works like that, but if it makes you feel any better, there's a 7."

"Hmm. I guess that's pretty alright. So?" Gilbert gazed at him charmingly.

"I guess you can have one?" Ludwig ducked his head and pulled one off himself.

"You're the best, Ludwig." Gilbert dropped the new tag into his shirt. "If you die, I'll try to get it back to you."

Ludwig snorted. "I'll try to return the favor."

"Eh, I probably won't actually die."

"See? That's—that's the spirit. You don't even need a dog tag. Or a lucky number."

"Well I don't know about that." Gilbert said.

Ludwig put out his cigarette and headed for the door. Gilbert followed, hearing a bird flap when Ludwig opened the door.

The lobby of the post office had been re-purposed into a storage room, with only two armchairs and several barrels and boxes. Boys sat on barrels with their backs resting on the wall. On top of two boxes on a coffee table was some random naked pigeon. "Hey!"

"Hey!" Under it, in a chair, was Antonio. Gilbert went over and leaned on the back of the chair with his elbows on top.

"What's that?"

Antonio glanced at the pigeon. "Oh, I thought maybe this messenger would attract yours."

"That's pretty smart." Gilbert said, and in the background Ludwig sighed. "Ludwig get over here, you're not allowed to trench with us and then abandon us."

"Oh." Ludwig came over and sat on a barrel.

"Let's play cards." Gilbert took off his dog-tag and spun the chain around his finger. "Winner gets to be named Ludwig for the rest of the war." Antonio laughed and Ludwig sighed (but smiling).

"I'm in." Lovino said, on a barrel behind the pigeon boxes

"I have a box of cards." Antonio offered. "In... my coat." Which he didn't have because all the cool kids in the rec room don't have their shit together.

"Aw." Gilbert said. "Well—Well I have this Jack in my shirt." Gilbert grabbed the card he kept over his heart, disturbing his top and accidentally showing off how shredded his abs were. "We could play the version of Uno where there really is only uno card."

"Hm."

"Maybe somebody will buy us cards for Christmas." Antonio said. "Ludwig you should ask your fiancee."

Ludwig laughed. "Why wait for Christmas."

"When...'s... Christmas..." Lovino asked.

"In like two months."

"Yup." I guess so.

"Anyone feel like a smoke?" Lovino squeaked. "I could really use a smoke."

They went outside to watch Lovino smoke.

Antonio and Gilbert lit up, and Ludwig had a cigar.

Before they restarted the conversation, the boys looked and noticed Lovino was having trouble with his matchbox. They watched him.

"Lovino what's wrong."

"I didn't realize it was October already. Now I'm really pissed off." He said.  
"Everything will be fine." Ludwig said.

"I know that but God dammit." Lovino held his breath.

He sighed.

"Sorry." He said.

"It's fine."

"Lovino do you want to take a walk?" Antonio said.

He frowned and left, taking his own walk with stiff strides, like a snake.

"Um." Antonio said.

"The Lord giveth, the Lord taketh away." Gilbert said. "Okay but really, you should probably go talk to him."


End file.
